


the world at large

by holless



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Depression, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insomnia, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", Sans-centric, Self-Indulgent, Triggers, everyones like 'wtf is up w/ sans lmao??' thats it thats the plot of the story have fun, for the love of god get therapy, god this is so awful, idk how 2 write, lmao yeah this is the most self-indulgent bs ever, summary & titles will prob change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holless/pseuds/holless
Summary: They've all been on the surface for two years. Things are good.Something's up with Sans.





	1. if the world's at large, why should i remain?

Sans had been looking forward to the meteor shower for months. There had been a different one within weeks of the family's first glimpse of the surface, but in an impressive feat of oversight, he'd forgotten the celestial event until the day had passed. He'd then resorted to patiently awaiting the next one, then impatiently as he realized just how rare the things were. He had a brief lapse in interest at some point during the year since then - what were a few hurtling balls of burning rocks, anyway? But despite every doubt, something kept him determined to see it.

Even if it meant taking... drastic measures.

Hence why Sans was sitting still as stone in the damp grass, unmanned telescope beside him, at three in the morning. No more excuses, he was seeing the damn meteors _today._

His eyelights focused solely on the sky above him - even if what he came for hadn't begun, the static pinpricks of light alone never failed to keep his interest. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie in a stubborn attempt to ward off the chill that was setting in. Maybe said chill was due to it being both January and 3:00 am.

Then, cutting through the silence of winter like a knife, the telltale squeak of a certain sliding glass door rang out behind him.

"heya bro."

"Heya yourself! Didn't you promise to alert me once the 'meteor shower' began?" Ah... Whoops. Sans could hear the air quotes in his brother's voice.

"well, i mean, technically it hasn't started yet," despite his gaze remaining firmly affixed to the sky, Sans could just _tell_ he made Papyrus's eye twitch. He grinned.

"You're lucky I thought to look at your calendar when you forewent your simple duties of showing up to bed!" Papyrus scoffed, pointedly ignoring Sans's disregard of the accusation. Sans bristled at the mention of the calendar, then was almost angry at Papyrus for looking at it. Then he realized both were horrendously stupid reactions, and regardless of how important the calendar was to him, Papyrus reserved the right to look at it when it was a fixture in his own room. Occasionally looking at your brother's wall decorations (or wall decoration, singular, as in the case at hand) was kind of a feature of sharing a bedroom. Ah, the trials and tribulations of sharing a room with a sibling - even the greatest one ever.

"sorry, pap. must've slipped my mind," he responded casually as his brother thumped down between him and the telescope, gaze never wavering from the third star on the right of Taurus.

"No problem, brother!" Papyrus shot back immediately, all cheerful disposition and smiles again, "I remembered in the nick of time! No harm, no foul."

They sat together, enjoying the silence of the night- er, morning. Sans finally tore his gaze from the stars to glance at Papyrus. He too watched the sky, and Sans felt a pang of guilt at his brother's tired expression. He reminded himself that Papyrus came out of his own volition. Sans's plan had initially been to go out alone then apologize in the morning, but he had to admit, the company was nice. He looked back up, and stars began to fall.

They watched, and Papyrus was remarkably quiet. Sans attributed it to tiredness. He flopped down onto his back, disregarding the instant frigidness that came from the freezing dew in the grass. His brother did the same beside him, and silence resumed its reign.

Several minutes had passed, and Sans was again wrapped up entirely in the world of the stars and the sky as opposed to the wetness on his back or his own guilt.

"You've been acting odd lately." Sans's eyes shot to Papyrus's face, who somehow managed to look like he hadn't said a thing. Sans watched his mouth the next time, just to be sure he hadn't imagined the voice. "What's wrong?" Papyrus asked in the blunt way he always did.

"nothing," Sans lied breezily. In the way he always did. He redirected Papyrus's concern back to him through a confused tilt in his browbone, but Papyrus had yet to meet his gaze at all. "why 'dyou ask?"

"You've been acting odd," He reiterated. Sans almost asked for elaboration, even though he knew it wouldn't end well, but Papyrus beat him to it. "You've been... jumpy? And you don't smile as much." Sans started to speak- "I mean, actually smile," Papyrus interjected. Sans cut himself off. His brother finally looked at him, concern palpable. "What's wrong?" Luckily, Sans had mastered the art of the wide-eyed confused gaze.

"nothing's up bro, seriousl-"

"I know you're secretive, but- but it's like... You don't tell me anything anymore. Did something hap-"

"papyrus, listen." Papyrus went quiet. "i promise i'm fine, i just..." Sans knew what this was about. After moving to the surface, there wasn't much living space for monsters to go around, and the two of them ended up crammed in the same house as Alphys, Undyne, Toriel, and Frisk. It was nice, but of course, the lack of a wall between the brothers left Papyrus to deal with Sans's... sleep habits. Specifically night terrors. After a year's worth of Sans shooting awake, hands clamped over his mouth to keep from screaming, It only made sense that Papyrus would grow suspicious. They had almost made a routine of it - this conversation had been a long time coming.

Or maybe it was something else causing Papyrus's concern.

**_just give up. i did._**

...But none of that mattered. What mattered was assuring his brother that there was nothing to worry about.

And Sans would say something clever and worry-assuaging right about... Now.

...Nothing happened.

Now.

...Nothing was coming to mind.

Sans only had to lie silently flailing for a few moments for an end to his sentence before Papyrus beat him to it.

"...I don't know if I believe you...?" He muttered like a question, and alarms went off in Sans's head. _He could still fix this. Just..._

"...papyrus..."

He must've said it in one hell of a strange tone, because Papyrus's eyes snapped back to him, widening.

They stared at each other, and Sans finally recognized his own expression as _pleading._ Then his brother broke eye contact, nodding slightly, looking up to the last fading trails of starlight.

"...Okay," He whispered.

Eventually, the uneasy silence became something akin to comfortable, and the brothers watched the once more empty sky in silence. The effect from before had faded. Sans just felt cold, now.

Eventually, they went back inside.


	2. went to the porch to have a thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Toriel talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hurray 4 me finishing my first chapter two ever!

Sans felt the beginning of his own scream and instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth. He didn't move again in favor of laying frozen, wide eyes focused on the nothing above him. His nonexistent heart somehow managed to beat rapidly.

There was nothing over him but looming black, and yet, at the same time, he was staring down across a golden hallway. The arched windows leered, and the dust motes in the air were illuminated by a distant blinding light. The afterimage was seared into his head, and he couldn't see anything but.

Where was h-

Papyrus snored grossly, and Sans's involuntary relieved sigh wrenched itself from him. The burning gold above him was immediately gone as if it had never been there, and he was in his bedroom again. _It never_ had _been there._ His pulse wouldn't stop pounding in his ears, but he let the hand on his face thump back to his side. His eyes adjusted, and the darkness eventually shifted into the faint blue of their ceiling. Night terrors.

He slowly relaxed as his sleep-addled perception grew clearer. He was in his room on the Surface. He had been dreaming of something dumb he couldn't recall, and like always, it warped into the familiar shades of the Last Corridor.

He let his head fall to the right. 5:12 AM, the alarm clock screamed in red letters. Beyond it, Papyrus was sleeping like the dead, limbs sprawled everywhere. Half the covers were kicked halfway across the floor, and the sheets were wrapped around his neck in a way that had Sans genuinely concerned he would choke himself. But he was still asleep.

Sans wished he could close his eyes again, and sleep half the day away. His eyes stung tiredly, and he wanted nothing more than to ignore everything for a good six more hours. But he knew from experience that his nerves were officially fried. There wasn't a chance that he would fall asleep. Not tonight. He wasn't actually too talented in the art of falling asleep, but even _he_ knew one hour of sleep was pushing it. His burning eyes seemed to agree. He knew the fact, yet there was nothing more to do about it.

So his options were either: A) lie still in bed for the next five hours, trying to calm down, or B) get up and find something better to do.

He went with the latter, easing himself from the covers. He shot a cursory glance at his brother once he was sitting. Still asleep. He pushed himself the rest of the way up and immediately stumbled, nearly cursing aloud. His legs were shaking, and a wave of nausea quickly retreated back into a pounding headache. Only then did he realize his entire body was shaking. Thank god Papyrus was asleep, he was a mess.

Some nights were like this. After acknowledging where he was in actuality, Sans had become good at pushing the dreams from his mind - his body, however, he couldn't figure out.

He eventually shoved down the dizziness, and stumbled his way out of the room as quietly as possible, down the stairs and around to the kitchen. In the silver glow of the moon, the colors of the house glittered with an ethereal light. He always went to the kitchen first.

Sans looked into the room, the counter on one side, the coffee machine already prepared, and the dining table on the other. The only noise was the seemingly perpetual rumble of the dishwasher. He took a few steps toward the coffee machine instinctively, then decided he was just too tired and flopped down onto a chair. Just getting off of his trembling legs had relief flooding through both his bones and his pounding head.

He watched the dust motes drift through the air before him. The clouds obscuring the light caused the reflection of the hardwood to dance like it would underwater. Maybe that's why his thoughts felt like they were reaching through layers of murk and resistance - he was underwater.

Ugh. That was an angsty thought. Moving on.

He hated mornings.

Abruptly, breaking through the subtle white silence of the dishwater, the sliding glass door _screeched._ Sans jolted up, and his eyes were met with an equally started Toriel.

They stared at each other for a solid ten seconds, disregarding the way the dry outside air swept into the warm house. Sans's hands were braced on the rim of the table, wild eyes locked with, but not at all seeing, Toriel's own surprised ones. Then they both regained awareness, with the clearing of Toriel's throat and the slow resumption of quiet rattling from Sans.

"Oh, goodness, Sans. You surprised me!" Toriel spoke gently and sweetly, putting into words what had been entirely obvious anyway. 

In a perfect world, he would've had a clever pun to respond with.

"sorry," he settled on, nodding weakly to the chair beside him in invitation. Unfortunately, he was stuck in this world where his mind was still solely focused on the twenty layers of sleep-deprivation-induced nerves he found himself wrapped up in.

Toriel knew better than to ask for a reason to his current state of not asleep-ness, and instead just sat down beside him, a previously unnoticed coffee cup in hand. That explained the coffee machine. The chair creaked a bit as she sat, and then the quiet reigned again. She stared at something in front of her, unblinking. Sans was almost taken aback by her silence - Toriel was a naturally nurturing person, and the fact that she skipped over dotingly ushering him to bed went to show how adjusted to this procedure she'd become. She knew he wouldn't go, and she knew he would offer no excuse. She must've finally realized there was no point in asking to begin with.

She had thankfully shut the door behind her before approaching, but the damage had been done, and the kitchen had already grown chilly in wake of the relaxing warmth the inhabitants could usually appreciate. Just another highlight of the winter months. A particularly cold blast sent a shiver down his spine, and he glanced at Toriel from his peripherals.

She was sitting tall, dark eyes glinting strangely in the still dancing light. They still focused hazily somewhere above and in front of them, thankfully sparing him the awkwardness of being examined in his state. She too though was clearly upset, silverish fur on end along her neck, and clawed fingers tapping rhythmically and rapidly upon both the table and her cup. The continuous _clink, clink, clink_ in Sans's ear was somewhat comforting at first, in that it was something to be distracted by, though he couldn't help but notice how the beat she drummed sped up, growing irregular and anxious. His head began to pound alongside it, as did his heart.

_Clink, clink, clink._

He wanted her to stop.

_Clink, clink, clink, clink-_ Just before it grew too fast for her to maintain, she smoothly pushed out of her seat. Just as expected.

"Would you like coffee as well, Sans?" That was how it always went. She refused to focus on the things that bothered her, it was always _distract distract distract divert divert divert._ Not that he was any better - he'd just spent several minutes closely observing her every movement in a vague attempt to derail his own thoughts that inevitably arose after every nightmare. He started to miss the rhythm of her tapping.

"sure." Sweet, sweet diversions. He let his vision grow fuzzy as Toriel walked steadily to the coffee machine. Her hand drummed uneasily once more as the rumbling began, and her gaze was fixed determinedly to the wall a foot in front of her face. The coffee machine began to drip.

In the lack of a nearby person to observe unblinkingly, Sans's thoughts began to wonder. _Never a good thing._ Sometime after he began idly wondering how many days were left until the second anniversary of their freedom, the gold had again solidified behind his eyes, casting his perception into bright, chilly light.

His sleep-addled brain couldn't comprehend, couldn't dodge, couldn't emerge back to reality. Couldn't care.

So he watched as the creature charged. He watched himself sidestep, though he never moved an inch. He watched himself fire blaster after blaster, and he could sense the achiness in his limbs and the sweat on his skull but he couldn't feel himself tire at all. Something was ringing, screaming in the back of his head, but he couldn't feel anything until his eyes were closed, and

The sound of a coffee mug settling on the table in front of him awoke Sans from the thoughts he had _just_ been trying to avoid. His head jolted upwards, and he managed to locate himself fast enough to flash Toriel a thankful grin without really seeing her. His head _pounded._

He looked back down at the swirling brown in the white mug. The gold overlay in his sight was gone again. _Today was a bad day. He wanted to sleep. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to think about anything._

An underappreciated luxury of the widespread human condition was the ability to sleep. To put everything aside as regularly as once every twenty-four hours, and allow one's mind to recuperate. Or at the very least, in absence of an ability to taste nothingness, an underappreciated luxury of the widespread human condition was the ability to die.

Apparently, he couldn't rely on even that much.

Sooner or later, the shadow cast over his unsipped cup shifted, and he realized Toriel was still looming over him.

"Would you like to go up on the balcony with me, Sans?" She inquired gently, just as she always did.

He didn't want to move. He wanted to sleep.

"okay." Routine it was.

They crept upstairs, and sooner or later, it somehow became a game. The house was new enough that the stairs didn't creak beneath their feet, but with almost every other step one or both of them froze, convinced they'd heard something. The unintentional adult, insomniac spinoff of the classic spies game offered a much-needed levity to the atmosphere, and though his legs still shook, and his eyesight still wavered feverishly, by the time the wind was ruffling his hood and he was leaning against the railing and watching the stars swivel across the sky, he felt better.

Toriel closed the door behind them both, and Sans grinned at the way her fake-relieved exhale turned into a giggle. She sidled up next to him, but he never wrenched his eyes from the sky. Stargazing had nearly become an obsession since the first time he reached the surface, but it was possible that twice in the same painfully early morning was pushing it. Then he spotted again the pinpricks forming Taurus, this time nearly over the horizon, and was, again, enraptured. He had no telescope at his side, and as such couldn't resume his calculations of the ISS's new location, but he wasn't bored enough to feel even slightly off-put.

Maybe he mourned his loss of sleep - he certainly would when he had to go about his day later like an actual functioning person - but at least he had this.

So they watched, quietly. It was a comforting sort of silence - the kind only years of friendship and trust could sustain. Even if the wind occasionally blew hard enough to whistle, and he could feel his distal phalanges growing numb, Sans could tell the fresh air had a positive effect on them both. Toriel was looking up and away again, ears swinging gently with the wind, only this time her fingers didn't tap relentlessly. Sans was a bit more at ease as well, though he dimly noticed his legs were still shaking. Hopefully, Toriel dismissed the light rattling as an effect on him from the brisk air alone. He glanced down at the yard before them. No snow had accumulated in the past weeks, but he knew the grass would be dusted white in the morning with frozen dew. It felt odd being out so late without the noise that usually accompanied them. He'd grown used to the chirping of cicadas and crickets throughout the night. It offered a comforting stability in rhythm, just as Toriel's tapping initially did. He missed the noise. Upon that thought, he was struck with a realization that had come to mind often over the past days but rarely failed to alarm him.

_This was the second time he'd missed the cicadas._ They'd been on the surface for almost two years. He almost laughed out loud. _Wasn't that something._

A car went rolling by on the nearby street, the headlights sending a bright light into their eyes. Sans jumped when Toriel suddenly spoke.

"Why did the car drive by at a frankly ridiculous hour?" She asked. Sans blinked slowly, sliding his gaze to her, at first completely befuddled by the question. Her melodic, teasing tone though was what finally clued him in as to it's nature.

"...why?"

"Because it wasn't two tired." The sharp bark of laughter that came from Sans shocked him as much as it did her, but soon the comedic tension that had been building since the impromptu spies game had snapped, and they were laughing raucously. The kind of laughter that only arose among sleepless idiots somewhere between three and six am. The car disappeared over the horizon.

"y-your puns are so awful sometimes," he managed once the chaos abided.

"Only when they fall flat."

"oh, you should be prepared for that. always have a spare."

"You know, I'm not sure how much traction I could get on such tired puns anyway." At that, they both collapsed near tears.

"what has four wheels and flies?" Sans asked.

"A garbage truck," Toriel answered matter-of-factly, disregarding the sole rule of their bad joke sessions by foiling his own.

"hey!" he squawked, affronted. She cackled. The night didn't feel quite as cold anymore.

 

Eventually, the pent-up giggly energy had been expelled from both of them, and the world was again serene. However, it now held a peacefully positive light the night had previously lacked. Sans felt a bit more awake. He had never been one to try and dwell on dark thoughts, and any way to feel better he would rapidly seize. Even if it involved criminally bad tire puns. _he could probably do something with that... criminally... and tires... eh, the moment had passed anyway._ He quickly became aware that his legs still shook under him. He fought down the wave of unnecessary annoyance that almost overcame the lightness of the atmosphere, and instead focused on trying to be as still as possible. It failed - he was jittery in an odd, nearly lightheaded manner. He could only hope it wasn't too obvious, and that the lingering feeling would fade sooner rather than later. Then Toriel was inhaling to speak again, and his eyelights jerked back up to her face, delightedly waiting for the joke that was sure to come, already flitting through possible responses. As soon as he saw her face though, his soul sunk with dread in a sort of heavy apprehension. She didn't look happy.

Her snout was angled down, but her gaze was focused upward, refusing to meet his own. The silvery glimmer of moonlight still shone beautifully across her fur, but it only served to highlight the pain in her eyes.

"Sans..." she began, and he could tell his surge of dread was justified. She trailed off.

"...yeah?"

"You do realize, if you ever need anything, I am here." She phrased it like a question but said it like a statement. The air felt cold again. Sooner or later his mood swings were gonna give him whiplash.

"...'course, T," he responded carefully. She still didn't look down at him.

"And... if you are ever struggling with anything, you will come to me?" he _really_ did not want to be having this conversation. Twice in one night? Was he acting that strangely? If so, why only now? He had no idea what the correct response to her inquiry was.

"okay." Clearly, that was incorrect, as her pointed calmness gave way to a small contained anger. She sighed somewhat aggressively, and he tried not to cower.

"Will you promise?"

_shit._

Toriel knew he didn't like promises. And he really didn't. He thought there was something fundamentally flawed with the system - terms like promise were designed to have weight, but when they reached a point where they were thrown around meaninglessly through conversations like pleasantries, they lost all their use. In response to the dilemma, new terms arose. You could swear to do something. You could swear to God, or on your old pet hamster's grave. In the same way, that too lost meaning eventually. Sans was all for the evolution of language or whatever, but he purposefully managed his own vocabulary to maintain weight, resigning himself to never throwing around poignant terms when there was any other option. In that way, his communication kept meaning something, and his word could be trusted. He placed a lot of stock in that. He never made promises he didn't intend to keep.

He couldn't lie to her face. But his options were either to lie or tell the truth, with no middle-ground. And he couldn't tell the truth either.

But none of that mattered anyway because his stunned silence had lasted long enough that she finally looked down to him, curious and stern. So, in an easily misconstruable move of impulse, he laughed.

"i don't like makin' promises, tori," he reminded through a chuckle, as calm as possible, trying to find a sustainable balance between taking her seriously and showing that his response was joking and unconcerned. Luckily, her expression softened. He hoped it was because she was relenting, and not because she sensed his nervousness.

"I am aware. But... would you please? For me?" oh come _on._ The for me card? Really?

"okay," he finally sighed, mocking an exasperated resignment. "for you. i promise that if i'm ever 'struggling,' i will go to you."

He really did appreciate the sentiment. Toriel's heart was always in the right place. _And now he'd gone and lied to her._

She hummed neutrally. "Even now?"

"...yeah?"

"Sans, you've been shaking all morning," She stated firmly.

Oh.

"What is it that has you awake so early, dear?"

He went quiet, and sure enough, he could feel his own trembling. He was quiet until he wasn't, and he laughed again, but it was less mock carefree and more actually resigned. He looked away from her and took to admiring the front lawn. Another car drove past. _what the hell was everyone doing up anyway at... whatever time it was? ungodly._

"i just... couldn't sleep," he smiled helplessly. "you know... that's just how i am sometimes. and what about you?"

Easily one of the weakest derailings he could remember attempting. Through the course of the brief conversation, he'd again fallen prey to weariness. Surprisingly, he found that he wasn't actually too worked up about his obvious misstep - either she would take the bait and leave the issue be, or she would refuse and press on. He saw in his peripherals an unreadable expression. They both sat in the silence of the surrounding winter night, until she was sighing with an age-old, long-suffering exhaustion.

"You know, I dream of them sometimes," she admits.

He knows.

"My first family. It's... so wonderful having one again, but sometimes it's a bit overwhelming I suppose." She laughed once, in a strained way.

He'd heard this all before, and both of them knew it.

"I love all of you very, very much, but it can be a lot. And I suppose, every so often, it makes it difficult to sleep."

"...yeah, well... we love you too." There wasn't much to offer in the way of comfort - just as it always went - and he had nothing better to say. But she smiled down at him anyway, fondly, tiredly. Either she had let the prior conversation go, or she hadn't.

She averted her gaze and resumed stargazing. Dawn was approaching, evidenced by the warm purple tone in the sky, and she seemed to want to enjoy the last moments of the activity she could. She'd let it go for now.

They finished their cold tea and watched the sunrise. Sans left to go back to sleep, partially to try and avoid his brother's inevitable concern, and Toriel decided to make breakfast.

When he got into his bed, the room nearly alight with the colors of morning, his legs were shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kgbgdh why does this shit take forever to write lmao?? writing is hard idk how you guys do it?? anyway speaking of shit: sorry thats the only thing sans ever says in this. idk man it just comes naturally at this point
> 
> papyrus nearly strangling himself w/ blankets while asleep is inspired by my own very strange sleep habits
> 
> i was kinda trying 2 experiment w/ my super awful writing style in this. i wanted a kind of odd, straightforward vibe, partially because its so early in the morning and sans is all sleep-deprived nd shit, but im afraid that only came across in a few parts so it was all just kinda off kilter. w/e!
> 
> in editing this im realizing just how bad i am w/ run-on sentences but tbh i... kinda like it? if it makes this too hard to read seriously lmk!!
> 
> ok im done. come beat me up if i have any typos (srsly please do let me know!!)
> 
> thanks so much for reading!! and thanks so much to the commenters, youre so sweet!!!!! oh god see you in like. months. or never again, next chapters outlined 2 be the longest )::::


	3. got to the door then again i couldn't stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton hosts a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA you thought it was discontinued, didn't you. sorry it took thirteen years. get ready for the dumbest thing you've ever read.
> 
> warning 4 some shippy stuff? i feel bad abt tagging relationships that arent super relevant, so theyre in the additional tags section if u need a warning

In a feat of surprising defiance of his typical standards, once under the covers, Sans actually did fall asleep. Then, before his dreams even had the chance to go sour, he was awoken again to Papyrus standing in the doorway displaying his typical grandiose posture, wreathed in angelic light from the kitchen downstairs, crying some incoherent, loud call to breakfast and quite nearly physically dragging him out of his bed. Sans decided to drag himself out of bed before Papyrus could for the sole purpose of escaping rug-burn. In contrast to the way his nerves were alight last time he was awake, He could now nearly feel the way his vision lagged. Though with the way his coherence sunk in and out of clarity, he didn't actually perceive much of anything. Slouching, he stumbled downstairs after his brother.

He was really, really tired.

_8:19,_ read the clock. Could always be worse. Halfway down the stairs he fell asleep and had to jolt himself awake at the sensation of falling.

Breakfast was nice. Toriel, being a saint and a goddess, made omelets for the whole family. She looked a little better than she had during the nighttime, hopefully having managed to get a little more sleep. Frisk was by far the most excited about the breakfast, as they often were. By the time Sans had entered the kitchen, now blindingly bright with the excess of light from the unobscured windows, the kid's arms were already up around Toriel's neck as they hugged her in thanks, feet dangling. Toriel was desperately attempting to balance the plate in her hand and the child attempting to strangle her. Sans smiled easily and took the plate from her, setting it down at her place at the table. She probably thanked him and probably didn't really acknowledge his lack of response or general coherence. She must've been used to his sleep-deprived behavior.

Thankfully, over the course of breakfast, he managed to wake up. Mornings were always lame, but he was typically able to recover alright. A big portion of the ability, though, was probably due to Undyne and Papyrus's everlasting screaming match. Always passionate. Even in the relatively simple act of eating omelets. Alphys, Toriel and he watched passively, Indifferently baring witness to the typical meal entertainment. At one point, Frisk was roped into it, and they proceeded to either nod or shake their head vigorously upon Undyne's promptings. It was fun having breakfast with his friends. Even if he paid little to no attention to what they were talking about, it was always nice to wake up to happy chatter. When it had been only him and Papyrus, they would often fall into a pattern of dead silence through the entirety of the meal, both too tired to carry a sensical conversation.

Conscious as he may have become, when they finished breakfast, Sans walked over to the couch and immediately fell asleep.

 

He thought he remembered reading somewhere that frequent all-nighters could cause permanent brain damage, and that no amount of make-up sleep after the fact could restore the former state. He wasn't one to stress over those things though. He was still kicking. Upon waking up, though, he _did_ , in fact, feel a lot less like death than before, so he figured those scientists didn't know what they were talking about.

The light of the sunrise was no longer pouring through the sliding glass door, but the house was still lit by the sun likely past halfway over their sky. Sans was lying on the couch, still feigning sleep, debating the benefits of rolling over and resuming his most-of-the-day nap in the absence of any other activity. It was a Saturday, and every member of the unusual family was free for the day. Frisk, however, seemed to be the only one to intent to make use of it, as he vaguely recalled their inquiry over breakfast as to whether they were permitted to visit their friend. Frisk and Monster Kid - or MK, as they'd conveniently abbreviated - had become remarkably close friends in the past two years, likely due to their similarity in age - a value in friendships Frisk didn't seem to often give any consideration. Regardless, the kid was in the living room as well, sitting on their mother's lap, possibly reading over her shoulder. He could safely assume that they would later go through with their plan. Determination or whatnot. Toriel resided beneath them contently, across the room from Sans in her fluffy cream arm-chair, calmly reading a book with eyeglasses resting on the end of her snout, appearing oblivious to the child on her lap beside the occasional paw she rested on their shoulder. Sans wondered distantly if it was some kind of royal training that had her always looking remarkably photogenic, a slight, easy smile on her face even as she read. Papyrus was sitting on the couch as well, close to the opposite end. His feet were crossed on the coffee table, and he was scrolling on his phone. Undyne and Alphys were probably also in the house, but Sans absolutely did not feel like getting up to check.

The fact that even Papyrus wasn't doing anything useful went to show just how lazy a day it was. Sans happily accepted the fact, and the time dragged on.

 

It was only once Papyrus suddenly looked up from where he was idly scrolling on his phone and screamed that the day became interesting.

Toriel jumped in place, almost dropping her book. Frisk quite nearly fell off of her lap, but their mother managed to catch them. A skid from behind Sans's side of the couch indicated the sudden leaping from a chair - a sound with which they were all very familiar - answering his earlier musings as to the location of the other two family members. Papyrus had both hands clasped to his face, eyes aglow, and was _blushing._ Apparently, he was self-aware enough to give an apologetic glance to the somewhat startled Toriel, but not enough to actually explain why he had just shrieked entirely out of the blue.

"Uh, What!?" Undyne yelled.

"Um!" Papyrus yelled back, whatever very vocal excitement he'd been experiencing obviously having already faded into humiliation, which he then seemed to shove down. Papyrus was a very expressive person. Sans watched, browbones raised.

"...Why did you scream!?" Undyne screamed.

Papyrus made an obvious effort to reign his volume in, blessedly, and when he responded it was with realistic embarrassment over the situation as opposed to the passionate answer some other family members may have had.

"We were invited to a party," he explained bluntly, relaxing his hands from his face and smiling awkwardly again.

_Oh God. Mettaton._

"Mettaton," chirped Papyrus, an answer enough in and of itself. The further clarification was not necessary for anyone in the room.

The monsters Frisk had befriended over their course(s) through the Underground, upon arrival to the Surface, ended up becoming tied to each other through the collective link of the child. What had initially been the effort to provide the best environment for the kid they all cared for had eventually resulted in everyone coming to care for everyone else in the house - hence the random assortment of distantly connected monsters becoming a family that shared the same living space. Mettaton, however, had become nearly inaccessible upon his inevitable and sudden rise to stardom, but thanks to the kid's insistence, the rest of the family had received more than their fair share of his theatrics.

Papyrus was one of the few who was very far from tired of said theatrics.

Sans, like the cool, lenient brother he was, wouldn't ever actually get in the way of the relationships Papyrus chose to nurture. But he _could_ wish, constantly, that he had better taste. As Mettaton and his brother grew closer, progressing from the odd confrontation to frequent texting, the distaste Sans held for the star grew.

But regardless, he knew his brother was smart, especially when it came to emotions. He trusted his judgment. _Just didn't like it._ He would probably just have to sit and wait patiently for news of their arrival on the next relationship stage to drop, as once again, Papyrus wasn't one for being discreet with expressions.

Undyne vaulted over the couch with a hoot and sent all the cushions bouncing, Sans and all.

"What kind of party!? Are we invited!?" she questioned in her typical loud, vaguely aggressive manner.

"Yes!" Papyrus responded equally in tone, seemingly ignoring the first question. Frisk perked up suddenly.

_"Who's gonna be there?"_ Frisk eagerly asked with clear excitement that quickly turned to a concerned confusion at Papyrus's obvious discomfort.

"i, uh, don't think it's your kind of party, kiddo."

They pouted.

And thus, several more hours of uneventful lounging passed. At one point, after the kid had departed, Papyrus clarified that the upcoming party was a celebration to honor the second anniversary of living on the Surface, and no, it was definitely not Frisk's kind of party. Frisk returned from their friend's house late to be almost immediately put to bed. Toriel drilled all the out-of-the-house procedure into them for the millionth time, reminding them of the post-it notes with emergency phone numbers constantly on the fridge, but they were asleep anyway before she left their bedroom.

Sans - and maybe Toriel too, on second thought - were both wholeheartedly content to suffer through the lazy day. However, for other members of the family, such as Papyrus, Undyne, and debatably Alphys, actual activity sparked them to life. Finally, the whole family draped extra coats over themselves - besides Sans and Papyrus, the latter of whom was always content to show his mid-drift.

Once in the car, Toriel expressed discomfort at the idea of a party. It was somewhat out of the blue, and she wasn't quite prepared. Alongside that, it was no secret among their circle that the former queen was not nearly as accustomed to social interaction as she once was, and it was likely that the people there would be unfamiliar to her. Surprisingly enough, it was Alphys who attempted to soothe her worries, explaining somewhat uneasily how she too was nervous, but would at least have the friends she arrived with at her side. Undyne proceeded to recklessly scream about the power of friendship, and Toriel seemed somewhat reassured despite her scolding response bringing to attention again the dangers of high volume level while driving.

"I...could be the uh, the designated driver if you guys want." Alphys suddenly threw out to a surprised silence. Huh, Sans hadn't even considered the issue. Upon further consideration, he didn't think he'd ever seen half of them drink. Maybe that was from where Toriel's discomfort stemmed.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Toriel began politely just as an excited Undyne threw back, "If you want to, babe!"

"Oh, I suppose then that... That would be appreciated," Toriel revised awkwardly. "I would, however, be happy to take on the role if you wish to enjoy yourself a bit more," she continued in good humor. Alphys laughed lightly.

"It's f-fine, Toriel. I don't drink much anyway."

"THAT'S MY COURAGEOUS GIRLFRIEND! SACRIFICE IS NECESSARY TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS!"

"-And to avoid car accidents!" Papyrus interjected.

Sans doubted anyone in the car intended to drink too heavily, and Alphys's "sacrifice" wouldn't really be essential. But it was respectable that she was taking precautions, and no one ever really knew with someone like Undyne.

The car ride didn't seem too long, especially with the way the front half of the car faded into calmer but... sincerely interesting conversation, that Sans listened in on and occasionally threw in his two-sense to. Streetlights turned on as the sun lowered, a brilliant mirroring of the morning's events, and they whizzed toward the address to eventually uncover an actual penthouse.

Toriel unlocked the doors, and they exited onto the crowded street, the chill immediately biting into the van's interior. Sans had to squirm uncomfortably out of the closed-off backseat where he'd been sitting alone.

The sun was balancing on the partially natural, partially industrialized horizon line, turning the sky into a sea of melting pinks and oranges. They walked first for the driveway instead of cutting through the grass, politeness lessons from the former queen successfully retained.

They knocked on the door and it burst open, unveiling an extravagantly made-up EX form Mettaton, hot pink feather boa draped around his neck and matching drawn on pink freckles. He was there far too quickly to have been doing anything besides watching through the curtained windows as they approached.

"Darlings!" He cried. "Oh, It's absolutely wonderful to see you!" He bent down and cupped Alphys's cheeks gently, planting a kiss on her forehead. She smiled, wholly and completely exasperated.

Mettaton then cried something to the effect of how happy he was they'd made it as he _stood tall again and repeated the motion onto Papyrus's forehead._

"It's so very wonderful to see you as well, Mettaton!"

"Aw, why thank you, dear! It has been far too long since we've been together in person!" The lilting coo turned to a purr.

"Definitely!"

Sans wondered if puking straight onto Mettaton's feet would give the guy reason to never say a word to his brother ever again. Speaking of, he hadn't removed his arms from Papyrus's sides. Undyne was the only person in Sans's line of sight. She looked just as unnerved and vaguely queasy as Sans felt. Papyrus had good taste in friends, at the very least. Mettaton suddenly extracted himself from the boy in front of him and threw the door open wide, face forming a flawless aghast expression.

"Come in, come in!" He urged. "Oh, how rude of me! It must be quite chilly, now that the sun's going down!" Admittedly, Mettaton had an impressive skill for making everything incredibly dramatic. Sans wondered why he hadn't opened the door and invited them in before they knocked if he'd been worried about the temperature. "Come in, sweetie, before you catch a chill!" Papyrus walked adjacent to Mettaton, and the rest of them followed the pair inside, hoping to leave the palpable awkwardness of the unsubtle flirting outside with the frosty grass and setting sun.

As it turned out, the entire building belonged to Mettaton. Sans was unsure whether the rest was being temporarily rented out by him, or if Mettaton rented it out to others, or if he just lived here and needed a ton of space. Frankly, Sans couldn't care less. Still, they were given the personal tour, and it was painfully obvious that once again it was exclusively for impressing Papyrus, who actually did seem pretty impressed. Sans found himself feeling bad for Alphys though. He didn't know how long she'd went without seeing her friend, and now he spared her little attention. Oh well. The asshole's selfishness wouldn't be Sans's problem unless he tried to marry into the family. Luckily Alphys didn't seem perturbed and was happy to hang back with her girlfriend and smirk at the possibly accidental innuendos that Mettaton spewed, though each one made Sans's eye twitch. If not for the sound of thunderous music and voices growing louder above their heads until the vibrations rattled the ceiling, he would have wondered if they were forever doomed to passively participate in the tour of beige hallways, and there was no party to be found.

Then they reached the top floor, Mettaton gave a final grin, and the elevator opened to cheering at the reappearance of everybody's idol, who positively thrived in the attention. The party commenced for the late arrivals. Sans felt tired again and wondered if that brain damage from earlier was taking its toll.

 

To Mettaton's credit, the penthouse was beautiful. The glass dome stretched all the way over the platform that made the roof, and though there were enough reinforcements to keep them mostly out of view from the remainder of the city, there was plenty of room to see the sky, which had at some point faded completely into stars. He didn't realize how big the surface area of the building was until it was laid out before him. A massive stage loomed across a good portion of the floor, featuring spotlights - some of which constantly dancing over the dance pit - a variety of odd multicolored curtains, and inactive fog machines. Sans was kind of glad the fog machines weren't being used. He didn't like them. Bad for walls. Toriel was rubbing off on him. Anyway, there had to be some kind of light crew somewhere, though for the life of him he couldn't locate it. Honestly, he wasn't sure who was there to run it either, considering everyone Sans knew and their parents were dancing and chatting or drinking at one of several bars.

There were both monsters and humans alike. It was unsurprising to him that he was familiar with the majority of the monsters, but it was actually shocking that he knew as many humans as he did. There were a lot more of them than there were monsters on the Surface. The ones there must have been largely from the Ebott area. Regardless, Sans had the privilege of knowing a ton of the party-goers.

He flitted about from conversation to conversation. He was welcomed by anyone who knew him. He met new people and cracked jokes to a variety of new audiences. His long-winded 'walked into a bar' stories would fade into amicable chatting until he got bored and found himself roped into a different group, with which the cycle would repeat. He felt a bit guilty, but he didn't actually care much for everyone's job promotions and family news, and couldn't help but forget most of the conversations he had moments after half-politely excusing himself.

He'd unintentionally parted ways with his family only moments after arrival. Mettaton had swept Papyrus away, quickly, almost as if in an attempt to avoid Sans's seething glare. Undyne dragged Alphys off to dance, or vice versa. He was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of them later in a grind circle. He didn't know if it scared or reassured him that he hadn't spotted the aforementioned duo of the evening in any such way. He and Toriel had walked and chatted briefly, exploring the surroundings and people. Eventually, though, they too were swept off into different discussions, and both were left alone. He hoped she was doing alright.

Several dozen entirely unrelated threads of conversations after that departure, a human woman named Marcelina tapped him on the shoulder and screamed over the music, somehow in a classy manner, that she wanted to introduce him to her husband. He couldn't even remember how he met Marcelina. He felt like it was within the first few months of Surface life, and she was maybe a member of Ebott's political team...? He couldn't begin to imagine how she'd met Mettaton. Wait, No, that was wrong. Was that Samantha? This _was_ Marcelina, right?

...Eh.

He waved goodbye to the family he'd been talking to, and left them to resume their gossip on their aunt's scandalous deeds or something.

Maybe-Marcelina introduced him to her husband, Charles, who was sitting in a fold-up chair against the wall chatting contently with Toriel. Sans shook his hand and introduced himself, and the dude responded in kind.

"Hello again, Sans!"

"sup."

"Not much is 'sup.' And you, are you enjoying herself?" It was bothersome to hear how sophisticated she managed to sound over the blaring volume of the party, just as the other woman who had now resumed talking to Charles had. (He wished he could remember who the hell she was, maybe it would be a bit easier to be included in the conversation.) Sans always felt a little ridiculous trying to talk both loudly and casually. His voice wasn't designed for volume.

"must be some kind of space party. i'm having a blast."

"Indeed. Mettaton must have put in a lot of effort to planet!"

"heard that one."

"Darn."

"don't worry about it, even overused jokes tend to lighten the atmosphere."

"Are you saying that before our conversation, it was a negative space?"

Sans noticed that Charles and Marcelina had stopped conversing in favor of watching them with unrestrained horror.

"i guess it felt like there was more gravity to the situation earlier."

Charles and Marcelina had fled. He felt bad. He didn't spare a moment to look for them.

"Well, there must be quite a bit of gravity now, too. Our friends have already left in fear of being sucked in."

Black holes. He couldn't tell if that was genius or too far a stretch. He laughed and sat down where Charles had just been.

Somewhere, in some godly rulebook upon which the world was built around, an ancient command probably declared that two great friends could only speak to one another for a very brief period whilst at a party, before inevitably and unconsciously they drifted toward the nearest bar. It was just in the nature of partying and friendship. This held true even when the conversation was exclusively about space and/or snail puns. So they began to wander through the crowds. Their clear focus on each other and occasional raucous laughter was enough to ward off any attention from friends looking to chat, and apparently, the phenomenon continued once bartenders were concerned instead of friends. Even sitting at the impossibly crowded bar, no one spared them a second glance. Sans wondered why it was so crowded in that one area specifically, then turned around him and noticed the rows of tables, and behind that, the actual fucking buffet line. The largeness of Mettaton's penthouse far surpassed a simple 'excessive.' The benches were full of conversations that roared and laughed just as loud as the couples up by the speakers dancing.

After Toriel finished her second actual anecdote from the latest school day, Sans realized just how lamely the party had been going beforehand. When it was Toriel, he didn't feel bored when she told him about her life, even if it didn't end with a vaguely snail-related punchline.

So he started to tell her about his week as well. She looked just as intrigued.

With the pounding of the speaker vibrations, and the _constant_ screaming around them, everything felt off-kilter and bogged down. It was almost as if they'd had too much to drink, yet Sans quickly realized after the thought that he'd never once seen Toriel drinking in all the time he'd known her, and they certainly hadn't ever drunk together. He found he didn't have any pressing desire to, though he did feel a little bad for hogging two seats at an already crowded bar without even getting a Shirley Temple. Nevertheless. The banging might have been getting to him, but seeing her laughing at his ridiculous story of Tuesday's failed job hunt made his soul feel several times lighter.

It was after they'd cycled through stories and resumed joyful punning, this time about various breeds of speedy fish, and after he'd finally ordered something light if only out of guilt, and after everyone previously at the bar had come and gone that she checked her phone.

_11:34._

"Oh, my!" she chuckled a bit. "How the time flies."

"swims." That barely qualified as a joke. It was more of an instinctual response, and he hadn't even meant for her to hear it. She laughed anyway.

"It's definitely too late for dinner. Oh dear, we should have all eaten with Frisk!" As Toriel had once explained in one of her many attempts to teach her new family proper ways to care for themselves, eating later or earlier than normal was very unhealthy, and not only could cause digestive problems, but encouraged repetition of the mistake. Sans had never seemed to have a problem with it.

"hey, it's alright, tori. you know one night ain't gonna kill us. and, 'course no offense to your PB &J making skills, but i don't think i was in the mood for sharing frisk's dinner at seven o' clock."

"You are correct." She sighed, ignoring the second half of his answer. "There is nothing to do about it now, anyway."

"y'know, there's always the buffet thing over there," he aimed a phalange somewhere vaguely behind him. She seemed shocked as she swiveled, then pleased, apparently not having noticed.

"Oh! Perfect!"

She texted every individual friend they came with at 11:36. He was proud of her for unearthing the secrets of the messaging app, but group chats were probably a bit too much to ask. Hopefully, she at least copy-pasted the message, but he wasn't certain. He finished his drink.

Several minutes passed before they began trickling in. The recognization that the linear progression of time was still a thing that existed, unfortunately, seemed to have knocked their conversation down a peg. To a point where it almost made actual sense. They waited to locate and get in line with their various family members.

Then all of a sudden, someone yelled something incoherent right next to Sans's head. The painful, pounding, fuzzy sensation that followed immediately afterward led him to believe there was more alcohol in his drink than he'd previously assumed. He knew the voice though and looked up slowly at Undyne's shark grin. Her face was flushed and her slitted eyes were out of focus. Comparatively, the women whose claw she clung to was shockingly sober. She'd seemingly taken her self-assigned role as designated-driver seriously, and looked torn between amusement and exasperation. Sans grinned at her, and she smiled back, almost imperceptibly rolling her eyes. At least she seemed fine.

Undyne proceeded to monologue on the events of the night so far to a flabbergasted Toriel.

"We just danced and got some drinks," Alphys translated to him. Sans nodded in understanding. "And it- it wasn't even like, like, a _lot._ She's only just begun to reach her full drunk potential." He nodded again, stoically.

"we have no idea what's in store."

"Yeah, no, not at all."

"you havin' fun, though?" He wasn't quite sure if she responded audibly, over the drone of voices and possibly bass-boosted music, but she made a show of thinking about it. Then she giggled a bit, caught a glimpse of Undyne's wild gesticulations from the corner of her eye, and responded in the affirmative.

Then Papyrus bounded up to the bar, appearing to have melted out of the mob of people. And again, hardly perceptible in the dark, one could vaguely make out the shadow of a blush.

Sans wasn't actually a fan of the over-protective brother trope, and he'd never intended to actually _be_ said trope. So he wasn't. Papyrus's life was his own, and Sans just tried to make it clear to him that he was supportive. Anything more would he thought would be crossing boundaries into the figure in Alphys's anime that cleaned out a gun when the kid's date came over.

And yet, reasonable as he could be about it internally, he couldn't manage to shove down the wave of disgust, and near overwhelming wariness whenever Mettaton draped an arm over Papyrus's shoulder or winked with whatever artificial eyelashes he was wearing that day. Somewhere, he supposed, the animosity was understandable. Mettaton hadn't ever done much to get on his good graces.

_An iron dictatorship and near enslavement of the pitiful remains of their kind never really did do much to ensure respect in his eyes._

...It was funny, how seeing almost everyone he knew at their worst permanently screwed over his opinion of them.

...Nah. Maybe it wasn't funny.

Blessedly, Papyrus was alone. He approached and greeted them in his typical grandiose manner. Alphys was listening in on Undyne's recounting of the night, correcting her when the exaggerations were likely to give Toriel a heart attack. She already looked perturbed, maybe at Undyne's drunkenness. Surprisingly enough, even Papyrus seemed tipsy, and as he arrived, her expression faded into mild horror. Sans had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter at her face. He wondered how long it had been since she'd been around so many drunk people. If Alphys's prediction came to pass, they'd be much drunker by the time the night came to a close.

Once their party had come together, they walked down over to the shitty bench tables. Undyne threw her jacket over her spot and raced up to the food line, which was unexpectedly short. He supposed they'd missed the food rush, considering it was rapidly nearing midnight.

Sans wandered through after her. Most of the food seemed fancy and exotic, perfectly in tune with Mettaton's taste. Sans resigned himself to either eating something interesting or actually making that PB &J at home, when _there_ , at the end of the line, a grill glistened subtly under the dancing rave lights, illuminated against the dark surrounding as an angelic chorus descended. Hotdogs _and_ hamburgers, wow. He took back everything he'd previously thought about Mettaton and the party, this was fucking awesome.

Sans made it back to the table, his plate piled high with an undue amount of ketchup. He had to keep up his reputation.

Dinner went... interestingly, especially considering the fact that Undyne repeatedly stood up to yell something, drawing the full attention of every other table in the vicinity. Also, considering the way Papyrus seemed all too reluctant to describe his night so far, shooting Sans a nervous glance that would've been far too subtle for Sans to catch under normal, sober circumstances. He was torn between feeling hurt that his brother was afraid to talk about something he maybe wanted to on Sans's behalf, and feeling flattered that his brother understood him so well. He decided he didn't want to think too deeply about deep stuff and settled into the typical fond amusement that he felt in most things Papyrus-related. Also, the dinner was interesting partially because it lasted until about 12:30 am.

Through the catching-up, A familiar sounding bark rang out behind him, and he swiveled to see Doggo sitting at the next table over, seemingly without noticing Sans. Upon further evaluation, he knew everyone at the table. Lesser Dog was chatting with Dogamy and Dogaressa, and Drunk Bunny was facedown on the table, gripping a bottle of straight vodka. Apparently, the lot of them had stayed close after monsterkind's release. _Shh, no more deep thoughts._

He was too small to lean all the way over to the table, so he crept up out of his own spot, and silently stalked toward them, grinning wildly. Drunk Bunny caught his eye, and he quickly shoved a finger up to his mouth in the universal gesture of _silence._ Her lips twitched up into a smile she was clearly trying to restrain, and then she faceplanted back into her arms.

"'sup!" Sans yelped from directly behind Doggo. He yelped in return, jumping a solid foot out of the seat, then settling back with a groan upon recognizing his voice. The other members of the table laughed just as unnecessarily raucously as Sans. He leaned over, resting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands, beaming innocently. As always, Doggo was grinning as well, though he tried to veil it with tangible annoyed demeanor. The return to tradition felt great.

"Hey, Sans!" Dogaressa greeted enthusiastically in the wake of actual words from Doggo. And thus Sans found himself torn between the two tables as the dinner proceeded, often sitting backward at his bench, trying not to trip passing people with his legs, as he chatted happily with the old Grillby's regulars he hadn't seen in way too long.

He quickly remembered why he'd always enjoyed their company. The occasional life update was appreciated, but their late-night times together back in the underground always consisted almost exclusively of jokes and playful teasing. You still don't have a girlfriend? DB's still drunk? Hilarious.

Maybe it was just natural that they talked like that. After all, when you stay at the bar until closing time every day for solid months, you come to realize that the ones who stayed with you probably wanted to talk about their own lives as much as you did yours. Which is to say they really didn't.

It was so easy back when the only things he had were the bar and his brother. It was easy to talk when he never had to actually talk about anything. It was refreshing to be able to hold his closest friends at arm's length, never letting them know anything personal because it was common knowledge that they were all doing the same thing to him.

_SHIT, no more deep thoughts._ He wasn't nearly drunk enough for fucked-up nostalgia.

He decided to turn around and was roped into listening to Toriel and Papyrus talk about baking for some reason.

Such it went until the music cut out and the crowd went gradually quiet, all eyes cutting over to the figure stage-center, illuminated by the one spotlight remaining. Then there was screaming, loud enough that Sans fought the urge to shove his hands over where his ears would be if they existed.

Mettaton basked in it, bowing as he walked in model fashion up to the very front of the stage, feather boa still trailing flawlessly behind him.

"Hello, all monsters and humans!"

The autotune in his voice made even an introduction as dumb as that sound kinda cool, and in the responding volume Sans actually _did_ cover the sides of his head, though the resulting muffled buzz only made him feel vaguely nauseous. At least Alphys was doing the same thing right beside him, so he wasn't the only one. Once the noise had dimmed enough for Mettaton to speak, he did.

"Hello, hello, thank you all _so very much_ for coming! This party is going absolutely fantastically if I do say so myself!" The audience response had faded to whistles and sparse shouts as attention refocused on the speech, and Sans put his arms back down.

"Don't worry, I have nothing too long to say! I'll let you all get back to it momentarily," Mettaton laughed playfully, probably sending somebody swooning.

"I just wanted to remind you all what we're here for today." The audience was finally quiet, enraptured. "Two years ago today, our own brave monsters and one brave human came together to break the barrier, freeing monsterkind from millennia of imprisonment. But you all already know that!" Laughter and cheering.

"No, right now, I would simply like to issue a toast." He flung an arm into the air, delicately balancing a full wineglass between two fingers. "A toast to all those brave monsters here today, and to the hope that the world on the Surface will continue to be as magical and welcoming as it has it these past few years. Cheers!"

_"Cheers!"_ echoed hundreds of voices, all crammed into the one penthouse. With a dramatic "Thank you," from the host, the music kicked back on, and the audience sang and screamed louder than before.

So they all continued to hang around the table. Undyne went up to the bar to order something alcoholic and returned drunker. Sans wondered if someone was spiking the alcohol.

Sans talked to his family, and he talked to his friends. As it turned out, Toriel and Dogaressa knew each other already, and Toriel migrated to his side of the table to chat with her about the struggles of mothering, which Dogaressa had recently become acquainted with. Then Dogaressa moved to their table next to Toriel, then went up to the bar to order both Toriel _and_ Sans - probably because he was sitting next to her and she didn't want to exclude him - drinks. Only after assuring that their family had a designated driver. Kindred spirits, those two. Sans thanked her when she brought back something fruity and very alcoholic for him.

Somehow, at every slow song, Mettaton was inexplicably ready to announce how it was for that special someone. Every time, Undyne pulled Alphys up with surprising tenderness, and they twirled into the crowd. Several times, Papyrus disappeared as well, but Sans had reached a point at which he was just glad his brother was enjoying himself.

He didn't even see it begin, but all of a sudden, half the neighboring tables were shouting as they counted up. He looked to see Drunk Bunny and Doggo, a tray of shot glasses between them that definitely wasn't there before. Beside him, Dogaressa was chuckling at the antics. Toriel seemed to enjoy the drink she had received, but watching the contest looked to be another matter entirely. Sans heard Dogaressa assuaging Toriel's concern.

"...they'll be alright. They both have someone to take them home. It's a party, and they're just having some fun." She explained easily. This seemed to appease Toriel, to Sans's relief - he didn't want her to spend so much time worrying about drunk strangers that she didn't enjoy herself at all.

To the surprise of all the Snowdin regulars, Drunk Bunny dropped out almost immediately, once she was unable to hold the shot glasses properly. Probably due to the fact that she was wasted before the contest even started. Doggo boasted this sufficiently, and Sans cheered for the unfair win anyway.

Then Undyne vaulted over their entire table, barely avoiding several long-forgotten plates, and picked up a glass, taking three shots in rapid succession to catch up. Everyone cheered, and Doggo looked afraid. 

"ONE!"

Doggo dropped out. Undyne raised her arms in the air in victory, screaming some sort of battle cry. A crowd had accumulated, and it began to cheer on Undyne as the champion. Alphys was snorting beside Sans, and he realized he was laughing too, though he was unsure whether it was due to Undyne's absurd battle cries or the fact that it was _only four shots._ He recognized the bottle on the counter beside the tray, and it wasn't ridiculously strong. He clapped politely.

"Y'know, ya haven't won NOTHIN' yet!" Drunk Bunny suddenly slurred, somehow drawing everyone's attention. "Ya only beat Doggo!" Doggo looked offended.

"Well, who else is there!" Undyne suddenly roared in response, leaping up onto the table, screaming the invitation to everyone in the audience, earning wild cheers in response. Nobody stepped up though. It was understandable honestly - Undyne's fins were flared out aggressively, her hair blowing behind her dramatically as she wielded her ever intimidating hero stance.

"Well, Sans is kinda the indisputable shots champion," Doggo claimed suddenly.

"pfft!" He laughed, and it whistled out his nose. He could _feel_ Papyrus's gaze on the back of his neck.

Shit.

"Yeaahh!! You ain't won nothin'!!" Drunk Bunny reiterated in firm agreement. Undyne was apparently too drunk to even question the claim, as she swiveled toward him, pointing a wickedly clawed finger at him.

"Well?? Are you gonna come up here??" She questioned as if the idea of him doing anything but was ridiculous.

He was torn. Again. It had been a long time since the days of shot contests in Grillby's. But he had to admit, drinking everyone under the table had always been fun. He couldn't beat anyone in most sports, but he sure as hell could drink. But then, on the other hand, he was pretty sure Toriel was staring at him, and there was a definite possibility he would get a 'not mad, just disappointed' speech if he went through with the challenge.

...But the fact that he was thinking so hard about it only went to show that he wasn't drunk enough. And just like Dogaressa said, it was only for fun at a party.

Then the crowd started doing that "oooooh" thing everyone did in middle school, and hell if there was any way for him to back down now, so he climbed out of his seat, took a step, stood up on the bench of the neighboring table, and took four shots in rapid succession in the exact same manner as Undyne had. The crowd cheered.

"FUHUHU!" Undyne cheered along, still looming from her slightly elevated position on the table. "You're goin' down, punk!" She slurred mockingly.

"no way, undies," he teased back. She dropped down to the bench across from him, and they both stood on the seats.

There seemed to be confusion amidst the small crowd as to whether the counting should start from four, or restart entirely. After the mob talked over itself for a bit, it managed to straighten itself out. Surely enough the alcohol wasn't strong, but he _knew_ he was gonna be in the doghouse for this later, either by command of his brother or Toriel. He mentally wished them an apology.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FOUR!" Eventually, Undyne's straight face broke, and their staring contest erupted into laughter. This was so dumb. He almost fell off the bench backward.

"FIVE!"

"SIX!" Sans could barely keep a straight face long enough to take the shot. Undyne seemed to be having similar struggles. This was totally a bonding experience. He pitied Drunk Bunny for her previous failure, now truly understanding the difficulties of holding a shot glass.

"SEVEN!"

"You feelin' sick yet!?"

"you wish. would you prefer if i backed out now?" he asked.

"I never realized you could hold much more than ketchup, though I guess your home away from home at Grillby's makes sense now!"

"EIGHT!" The counting had cut them off before they even took the shot. Such was the downfall of the fact that their score-keepers were all absurdly drunk. They both hurried to catch up, and he ignored the twinge of hurt at her attempt to trash-talk. The remark reminded him why sober him wouldn't have stood up to the challenge, and he maybe regretted his decision a bit.

"NINE!" It was true that he hadn't really been on the alcohol scene for a while. Mostly because he couldn't stand the look on Papyrus's face. _Oh no, he was probably making that face right now, wasn't he?_

He and Undyne took another shot, and he reasoned that, again, like Dogaressa said, he was just having fun. Playing a dumb shot game with a friend wasn't equivalent to trying to drown himself in alcohol.

"TWELVE!"

"THIRTEEN!" It was kinda hilarious to watch the on-lookers watch in awe. He assumed that whichever bartender set up shots knew the party-goers were already drunk and chose to keep the strength of the drinks low to limit the number of unconsciousness bodies on the floor. It was a little wise, but he kinda felt like he was cheating considering his competition was already way drunker than him.

"FOURTEEN!"

"gettin' dizzy?" He asked as Undyne stumbled. Maybe he was pretty drunk too if the slur in his voice meant anything. Or the burning in his throat.

"Not yet! There's no _way_ I'd lose to the likes of you!" She sneered, again wielding her most heroic stance as if he was the antagonist in her top-rating movie. She stepped from the bench onto the table itself. He followed suit.

"FIFTEEN!" Drunk Bunny still looked partially unconscious, but she took up handing glasses up to them in tune to the counting so they wouldn't have to bend down.

"SIXTEEN!" The aforementioned awe of the viewers accumulated in Alphys's claw around Undyne's bicep. She looked down at where Alphys had put one leg up on the bench to even reach her. The crowd didn't seem to notice the disruption, but Sans tuned out the pounding noise to listen.

"I... think that's enough, Undyne." She didn't look at her with the same exasperated amusement she had earlier. Undyne grinned and started to respond.

"SEVENTEEN!" Both took the shots anyway. She knocked the glass back and slammed it down on the table, then giggled a little.

"Hhhey, no worries'babe!! 'S just fun!" Alphys started to interrupt, Undyne got there first. "Plus!! I can't back down now!!" Ooh, that was probably her signature move in their relationship. Alphys couldn't fight with Undyne's constant competitiveness.

"EIGHTEEN!"

"Plus! I've totally got 'im on the rocks! No worries," she repeated, apparently having picked up on her girlfriend's authentic concern. Alphys stepped back.

"NINETEEN!" Twenty-three, counting the four from before. A very familiar hand suddenly poked at his arm, and he was filled with déjà vu as Papyrus told him he'd probably had enough. He turned around. Lo and behold, the dreaded look. Somehow, over the past few drinks, he'd forgotten about the stares on his back from his family. _God, he'd be having so much more fun if he could just enjoy himself without worrying about everyone's undue concern._ They were too good at worrying about him over nothing. He wished they would just let him hold them at arm's length sometimes like he did with his friends at the bar.

"TWENTY!" It sounded like half the bar was counting now. Papyrus didn't see Sans's reassuring grin with the way he was looking over at Alphys helplessly. He probably didn't hear Sans reassure him either, but then again, neither could he.

"TWENTY-ONE!" Sans almost fell over backward again as his brother retracted his hand. Maybe Alphys had told him the contest would be over soon anyway - staring into Undyne's eyes again, it seemed that way.

"TWENTY-TWO!" He gave a shit-eating grin, and Undyne returned it as she stumbled, dropped the thankfully durable shot glass, and nearly collapsed onto Alphys. The noise was deafening.

He took a step to the center of the table, laughing, though he couldn't hear it. Hindrances aside, that was totally fun. He could make out the telltale sounds of clinking glass and shouted numbers as more contests began around him. Looks like they'd started a trend. He wondered if twenty-six would be hard to beat. Just as his drunken applause was dying down, he was tugged down off the table.

Papyrus was always gentle with him, but he stumbled as they reached the ground anyway, unwittingly resting a good portion of his weight on him. He was still giggling a bit.

Then he was sitting back at the table where dinner had begun. He looked up at the clock, but he couldn't read it.

His grin faded a bit. Papyrus looked upset. So did Toriel. He remembered how hesitant she'd been about the whole alcohol thing in the beginning.

Alphys placed Undyne down beside him. She collapsed into the seat somewhat like a ragdoll, but pushed herself up and looked at him, still grinning.

Though the sound of partying behind their heads was loud, he found he could just barely hear her.

"Kinda fun, huh?" She slurred. She looked happy, at least. Huh. _Gracious loser_ wasn't a term he would've thought applied to her in any field.

"yeah. 'specially when i won," He tested the waters. She snorted.

"Oh my God, shut up, you're a jackass," she sneered. Even if it comprised mostly of taunting, he was pretty sure this was the best he'd ever gotten along with Undyne.

The rest of the table stood up around them. Alphys grabbed Undyne's jacket from the chair she'd used earlier. They were leaving. Papyrus put an arm around Sans's side and helped him up. There was that déjà vu again.

Toriel led the way to the elevator they'd arrived through. The party hushed again as Mettaton's voice suddenly rang out over the loudspeakers. Sans didn't hear what he said.

He glanced up at Papyrus. His eyes were fixed to their destination. He wondered if Mettaton had other monsters to flirt with once they'd left. Then he wondered if he was the reason for their leaving and if Papyrus had gotten a chance to say goodbye, then he stopped wondering because he already knew the answers.

He glanced up at Mettaton as a fog machine erupted. But the grey that spilled out was dust and the white of the spotlight was light shining off the snow.

He stopped in his tracks.

The bright scarf that blew into his peripherals was still there. Tattered, and with an irregular gaping hole where it had been sliced through. The grey and white were close enough in their hues that they blended together for the briefest moment before it was all swept away anyway as the blizzard came down. And everything he saw was white, and he squinted against it, looking for the slightest hint of anything outside of the painfully saturated red because even though it wasn't possible there was a chance even though there actually wasn't. Everything was silent, besides the wind whistling. There wouldn't be anything left to bury.

He wanted to buckle to his knees. He thought he already had, but there was something that kept him on his feet. It was a hand.

He followed the wrist until it was a shoulder and a body kneeling in front of him, and where there had been snow his brother was staring at him, saying something, eyes wide with a sort of confused dread.

The whistle of the wind, that was actually only ringing in his ears, didn't stop, but he recognized the sounds of partying behind it. And the stage behind Papyrus. The spotlight was gone, Mettaton having already left the stage. The fog was no longer illuminated.

He was shaking like he'd been last night with Toriel. Papyrus's hands had moved to his shoulders.

"...ANS?? SANS??"

"wow, i guess i'm really drunk, huh," Papyrus huffed out something between a fake laugh and a genuinely relieved sigh. He was pretty sure the sound was echoed behind his head, as the rest of the family loomed over his barely steady form.

"Yeah, no shit, Sans," said Papyrus.

His brother helped him up again, and the supporting arm around him was tighter than before. He was still reeling. And shaking. His legs threatened to fail with every step. The pair trailed slowly after the rest of the entourage which had continued moving forward despite their palpable concern. Concern, for him, _again._ He wondered if it was Alphys who'd egged them along. She always knew what to do in situations like this.

He wondered what exactly the situation constituted as anyway. Then he stopped wondering because he already knew the answer.

Almost immediately after he was packed into the backseat of the car, this time with his brother directly beside him, his vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> just so you know, the entire party, the only song playing was despacito. not even like an extended remix, it was just on loop. slow dancing to despacito. grinding to despacito. meditate on this image.
> 
> thanks so much for all the sweet reviews and stuff, guys! it means so much, you're all really cool, and i did _not_ expect this much attention. i hope you like this chapter, it took a long-ass time and is def the longest thing ive ever written, messy as it is.
> 
> wow, i had a lot to say but i can't remember anything. thanks 4 the support. sorry it took a while. insert dumb thing that i have the power to make canon. sorry next wait will also probably take forever. love ya


	4. but you still got your words and you got your friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive home.

The car ride was longer in reverse. He thought it was supposed to be the other way around. It may have been due to the timing - When they first made the commute, in the brief moments of respite from an easy conversation, the windows revealed an active, sunny, if fastly-moving outside. People were going about their day. Every once in a while they'd stop at a stoplight and he would catch a glimpse of someone walking a dog around a corner. However, now there was no sun to watch set, and the only real interest was the brief flashes of light as they passed continuous streetlights. For a second they would illuminate the inside of the car, and he would see his lap and his unconscious sibling beside him. Then it was dark again. There was no real intrigue in the car this time either; What had once been the contented meaningless chatter between good friends was now just a melancholy, somewhat awkward silence.

Really, it was just kind of boring. And all he could do was think.

Alphys was driving. Papyrus had briefly wondered how well she could see over the dashboard, But she had proven herself just fine. A beam of light passed beside them again and for a split second everyone in the car was illuminated. Directly behind Alphys was Toriel, sitting tall and proper, and frantically tapping the tips of her claws together. Amongst his array of grand talents, Papyrus had always considered himself a good listener. Or eavesdropper, if you're a pessimist. Regardless, the steady clicking was a pretty clear sign of not-good from the ex-queen. Originally she'd wanted to sit up front, even though Papyrus had once when he was thirteen called shotgun times infinity, but Alphys quietly reminded her that Undyne might be better off with someone watching over her. Undyne hadn't minded them talking about her, considering at that point she was barely conscious and drool was dripping onto the pavement. She definitely wasn't conscious halfway through the car ride. Toriel ended up taking her duties seriously and would occasionally glance to her right where Undyne sat.

It had been a bit strange getting into the car in the first place. After an elevator ride down, the music had become inaudible. His nonexistent ears hadn't quite been ringing, but instead resounded with a strange sort of hollowness in the absence of the thundering volume from the past few hours. The periodic whizzing of car engines everpresent in any kind of city wasn't the slightest imitation of the all-encompassing noise that he never quite determined as having been good and fun, or grating and bad. Papyrus had glanced up at the silent structure he knew was still bustling with activity, then pushed Sans into the right side of the car because he figured it would be easier to shove him all the way in then climb in after than it would be to awkwardly climb over him.

So Papyrus sat on the left in the backseat, and Toriel clicked her fingers, and they drove home.

At one point, Sans's head slumped onto Papyrus's shoulder. Papyrus realized that he'd never fully released his grip on him and that their hands were still limply interlocked.

He let him stay on his shoulder despite car safety procedures, and like that they stayed.

Alphys seemed to eventually get tired of the awkward silence, for at some point the radio switched on. Toriel's car radio was only preset to slightly older human music, namely someone named Fleeting Mac, but Alphys didn't bother to look for any other stations. Papyrus absentmindedly fiddled with Sans's fingers, who didn't react, entirely dead to the world.

Then they were pulled into the garage, and the car clicked off, and it was almost like the three conscious passengers were blinking back into awareness after one of those mid-day naps that was more tiring than satisfying.

Alphys looked at Undyne, suddenly aware of the dilemma that was getting her into the house. She eventually opened the driver door and walked around the car to Undyne's side, opening her door and proceeding to nudge her gently.

"H-hey, Undyne? You gotta wake up," She muttered, nudging turning slightly rougher.

Undyne suddenly groaned and rolled onto her side, eyes creaking open to stare at Alphys.

"Nng... Five more minutes, babe?" She murmured. Alphys cracked a small smile and leaned forward to scoop Undyne up by the underarms.

"Just real quick."

Undyne cooperated, with no small amount of noise, and climbed out with her girlfriend. The car beeped as Toriel opened her own door to follow the pair, then she pulled the car seat forward to allow Papyrus room to escape. He didn't bother futilely attempting to wake Sans, and instead easily lifted him into his arms, then awkwardly attempted to climb out without the usage of his hands. Toriel put a gentle hand on his elbow to help him, then closed the door behind them both. He was fairly certain she wasn't looking at him at all, but he thanked her politely anyway.

The warmth and scent of their own home, even if strangely unfamiliar in the dark, was a relief. Someone flicked a few light switches and artificial light flooded the kitchen and living room beside it. Both Alphys and Papyrus stumbled forward in a similar manner and deposited their respective freeloaders onto the couch, where Undyne immediately passed out again and Sans didn't budge. Papyrus then plopped down on the couch beside him, sighing exaggeratedly as if he'd been on his feet for hours, or as if his brother weighed anything over thirty pounds. Alphys mimicked him, her sigh amusement-laden, and he might have laughed a little. Toriel approached and sat down near Papyrus, smiling gently.

"Well," She finally spoke, "Did you two enjoy yourselves?" She asked, obviously disregarding the elephant in the room.

"I d-did," Alphys responded, sounding almost surprised by her own admission, eyes lit up in a soft way that spoke of genuine happiness. Papyrus wondered whether she was aware of the fact that she was absentmindedly running her fingers through Undyne's bright red hair, and he had to smile a little at the observation. Normally he would be much more enthusiastic and/or vocal about the couple's adorable affectionate moments, but he was awfully tired.

"As did I!" He declared, quietly, accurately interpreting Toriel's side-eyes toward the upper floor as concern for Frisk's sleep. The child was beginning a school volunteer program on Sunday that would go on for a month, or longer, and according to Toriel, sleep was crucial. Regardless, it was true - he _had_ enjoyed himself. He loved talking, or rambling, and he loved to do so when he knew his family would listen. It was even easier with alcohol involved. He enjoyed himself when Mettaton pulled him aside, somewhat discreetly, and put his gloved hands on his waist to dance. And he enjoyed himself when he got unfortunately trapped in the dance pit for the one moment during which glitter rained down from the roof, and he was actually happy to spot little sparkles and sequins on his arms for the rest of the night.

It was truly a shame that all he could feel now was a bit distant, and that every fond memory was at least the slightest bit tainted with Sans looking down at him from the table, eyes unfocused and grin obnoxiously wide, before interrupting himself with another drink.

"And you?" He questioned with a smile the queen happily returned.

"I did as well, for the most part. I quite enjoyed talking to Dogaressa, it's been a long time since we really caught up," she explained. The _for the most part_ echoed in the room for just a moment longer.

"Oh, is th-th-that her name?" Alphys inquired. Toriel nodded, and there was silence for a moment. Then Undyne snorted loudly in her sleep.

"It was truly a shame things went a bit... badly at the end there," stated Toriel, trying to play off her words as somewhat teasing. Alphys smiled sadly at her, but it quickly morphed into an honestly amused expression.

"Yeah. They're gonna be really hungover," Alphys laughed to herself, and Papyrus realized that hangovers were probably a bit more amusing an event in their relationship than they ever were between Papyrus and Sans. He had to crack a smile at the mental image, though, upon attempting to envision Undyne's future moaning and stumbling in a different light.

Alphys's eyes followed Papyrus's slight movements, and he realized he was unintentionally fiddling with the fur on Sans's coat. The humor faded from her smile, and she was left with an empty, indistinguishable emotion on her face and Papyrus kind of dreaded whatever words were about to come next.

"H-hey... Uh... Is... Sans? Al-Alright?" She asked in an extraordinarily awkward manner.

"What do you mean?" Papyrus asked, cocking his head, but otherwise not really bothering to pretend his inquiry was sincere. Toriel was looking between the two of them, eyebrows raised in what may have been surprise or concern or both.

"I've just noticed. He's... been kind of off lately. D-do you know what-what I mean?"

"I... How so?" said Toriel.

"Um. I don't know." She shuffled her feet against the couch, then the rest of her as well, pushing herself further against both the cushions and Undyne. Papyrus readjusted himself similarly, and again, silence reigned. That was a quick change of atmosphere. This whole experience was quickly becoming one of the strangest confrontations of his life, and he figured it might be because he was still slightly drunk. There was a pretty significant difference between his drunk and Sans's drunk, though.

And if he thought about it, he was pretty sure there was the same difference between Sans's drunk and Undyne's drunk.

Toriel spoke. "I think I may know what you mean, Alphys." She decided, each word sounding carefully calculated. "He's been acting awfully odd for several months now, I believe."

"How so?" Asked Papyrus. The edges of Toriel's mouth quirked upward once again, but her eyes were strange. She was focused on Sans, and how he messily sprawled out where Papyrus had dropped him, one slipper barely hanging onto the foot dangling over the couch's end. She looked sad, and overwhelmingly concerned, but also displayed an expression of something tender and loving.

"I doubt you haven't noticed, dear," She shot back, a tad teasingly, raising her gaze to meet his own. "I suppose he's just been a bit jittery lately, for lack of a better word." It didn't sound too bad when she said it that way.

"Yeah. He's... He seems... really tired lately, too, I think." Alphys agreed.

Their attention was gathered when Sans twitched, and his slipper fell onto the ground with a quiet _thump._ Papyrus watched him for a moment longer, and he didn't move again.

Not one of them mentioned the way Sans had stumbled from something besides mere drunkenness as they left the party, eyes going vacant as he stared right in front of him at something that wasn't there. And then, once Papyrus _was_ there, the way he stared straight through him, shivering. The way he'd only reacted once Papyrus squeezed his shoulders hard enough to hurt, finally looking up to him.

The way that, for a moment, Sans had looked at him with some awful cross between the most unrestrained horror and desperate relief all over his face.

It may have been the most readable Sans had ever been, and still, _the only thing_ Papyrus could determine was that it had been _bad,_ and something was very wrong.

No one mentioned it. Instead, they exchanged some silly closing on how it was good to know their observations hadn't been their imagination, and then Toriel and Alphys collaborated to get Undyne into her bedroom. As he sat on the couch, Papyrus wondered whether the two of them were internally thinking and planning what to do about it or what to say, and he wondered how he'd feel about it if they were. Or weren't. He wondered if he should tell them it won't be any use, Sans never tells anyone anything, and then wondered if, just this once he _would_ tell someone something, and Alphys and Toriel _should_ talk to him.

Then Papyrus realized he was too tired and too tipsy to wonder much of anything coherently. So he stood up, and stretched, spine popping, and then bent back down to lift his limp brother up once again. He remained motionless as Papyrus walked up the stairs heavily, and he may have held him just a bit closer to make up for it. He nudged the partially open door all the way open with an elbow, then closed it behind him with a knee. He weaved his way through the knick-knacks and trash and gross dirty clothes across Sans's half of the room, then placed him down on his back.

His sheets were gross and strangely greasy, so Papyrus just took a blanket from his own bed and tucked Sans in with it. Standing over the bed, Papyrus pondered climbing in with Sans like they used to. But he wouldn't want to startle him when he woke, so instead, Papyrus walked back across the room to his blanket-less bed and watched Sans carefully for any sign of anything until the silence lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> s/o 2 duster for writing the most beautiful feedback, its made me wanna cry every time, thank you so so much! also sorry papyrus hasnt said fuck yet
> 
> the theme song for this chapter is dramamine by modest mouse. idk why. _cmon tho 'look at your face like youre killed in a dream.' cmon. **cmon.**_ fun fact i was super close to naming this fic and the chapters after that song, but i went w/ [another modest mouse song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppzTFgwZxhc) instead for unknown reasons. if uve read the tags tho u know the titles still not set in stone! also the unofficial theme song is nobody by mitski because i heard it this week while i was sorta working on this chapter and its a pretty song
> 
> haha you were fooled the theme songs still despacito hope you enjoyed this lameass shortass "chapter"
> 
> OH FUCK i almost forgot please do not look for any even slightly romantic themes w/ the bros it is not there i fucking promise you! i hc them as really affectionate toward each other. they are not in love. please do not think they're in love. it would make me very upset.


	5. walk along to another day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day.

With an abrupt lurch of nausea plus a flurry of sparkling dots of dizziness, Sans jolted up in bed. He then proceeded to throw a hand over his mouth, toss the sheets off his body, and stumble out of bed into the bathroom. He tripped on an old pair of slippers halfway to the toilet.

He made it. Some time later, he was awoken from his unthinking stupor of greyish vision - brought upon him by one's typical hangover activities - by the banging of a hand on a door.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump--_

"would you _stop_ th..." He cut himself off, and his grip on the toilet seat tightened. Incredible how a nonexistent stomach could seize up so violently, huh.

Blessedly, the knocking stopped, even though he'd thought his voice too hoarse and halting to hear. He stared down at the swirling water in the newfound silence and tried not to inhale too heavily. He flushed the toilet, and realized upon recognization of the familiar sound that he'd already flushed it at least three times.

He then groaned a little, folded his arms on the toilet seat, and plopped his skull into them. He weakly rearranged his legs beneath him, as the left one was already filled with pins and needles.

With his face buried in the cool softness of his hoodie, Sans allowed his thoughts a moment to catch up with reality.

 

He was very hungover.

 

As if in affirmation, his head spiked in pain as if stabbed through the eye socket, and proceeded to pound rhythmically in time with his slow, heavy breathing. Yeah. This, at least, was familiar territory. He remembered the events of the previous night thanks to a voice in the back of his head shouting out something along the lines of _the drinks weren't even that strong._ Evidently, they _were_ that strong, and simply took time to settle in. Classic bartending technique - once the innocent partygoer was bored enough to resort to drinking themself silly, they became dissatisfied by the strength of the drinks consumed. Thus they consumed more. And eventually crashed. The style was reminiscent of some of Grillby's finest creations. Were they Grillby's creations? ...Was Grillby there?

Scratch that remembering thing, he couldn't exactly recall much.

He began to subconsciously recap what he _did_ know.

Mettaton's party. Talking to boring people. Couldn't remember Marcelina's name. Something probably happened somewhere in the middle there. To-the-death shot competition with Undyne. That part definitely happened, he could envision with surprising clarity the look on her face, tinged far more with good-humored acceptance of defeat than the anticipated rage.

Toriel's reservations. Papyrus's face.

Sans's folded arms fell apart a bit further, and his cheek met the toilet-seat. The coolness was a welcome relief, though in hindsight it was a little gross. He couldn't remember if he had expelled much of anything else, but he didn't exactly want to check. So he reached up and flushed the toilet again without looking. He was coherent enough by then that the sound was loud enough to grate, and his hand crept up the side of his head in a vague attempt to block out the piercing whirl.

From the silence afterward, disturbed only by the slight and ongoing ringing in Sans's head, a voice called out.

"Do you need help?"

He tried to laugh a little, but his voice caught on its own hoarseness. On a side note, he actually had no idea how to properly clear his throat, but he did whisper for a moment under his breath in an attempt to clear out the roughness in his voice.

"nah, bro, i'm good," he croaked.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._ Footsteps faded away, and Sans shoved himself upright with hands braced on the toilet, eyeing the challenge beside him in the form of a shower curtain.

 

Toriel bent down to gently place a plate of ham and cheese omelets in front of her politely waiting child, and it was as she stood up again with a smile that she saw Papyrus emerge from around the corner.

She never noticed it herself, but she had somewhat of a system in place in terms of her behavior toward her family. As people often do. With Frisk, it was all gentle smiles, raised eyebrows, quiet and soothing tones, only occasionally punctuated by her most boisterous laughter. The same was somewhat similar with Alphys, who sat across from Frisk at the moment, kicking her feet and whispering to her girlfriend. Toriel was always automatically pleasant to Alphys, though that sometimes faded into the monotone, curse-laden gallows humor that she knew made the unsuspecting young woman laugh every time. (Of course, her child would never be privy to such a side of their mother.)

Whenever she met Papyrus's eyes, Toriel found herself beaming in exuberance.

"Good morning Papyrus!" She greeted cheerfully. It took no expert to catch the initial hesitation in his returned greeting, but she could sense the authenticity that rose in his smile.

She turned to pour a few glasses of milk, and behind her Papyrus took in the scrambled - oh, she needed to remember that - state of their family. Perhaps most noticeably different was Undyne, whose head repeatedly sank into her pile of bagels despite the way Alphys continuously roused her. Frisk was watching in a sort of baffled amusement. Papyrus seemed to steel himself, then bounded into his place beside Undyne, shouting a greeting to her.

"Uuunnghhg," She retaliated. This time, two separate pairs of hands caught her head as it dipped toward her plate. Alphys took the initiative to flip her hair over her shoulder to protect it from the cream cheese. "You are so loud," Undyne declared.

"Yes!"

"Nnnghh..."

Somehow, despite Undyne's less than ideal state, a conversation managed to blossom once Alphys brought up her latest project and began to techno-babble to Papyrus. Toriel was surprised to feel the wave of warm relief that spread through her, though that might've just been the warmth of the oven she opened. With oven mitts - they had been the biggest she could find, but they were still tight - she reached in and removed a tray.

Frisk's mouth dropped open slightly, and they clapped their hands in front of their chest with delight already written across their face. Alphys and Papyrus looked her way at the beeping, and for the first time of the morning, Undyne's head remained upright of its own accord.

Toriel snorted, then all out cackled at their faces. All four rushed up to take a muffin, even though she was just about to take them over to the table civilly. They bombarded her with a series of goofy thank-yous and a few hugs that left her laughing harder than their initial reactions. One would think she had five children living in her house, not one.

She only noticed the drone of the upstairs shower once it ceased, and she realized it had to have been running for a while. There was her fifth child, she supposed. She didn't dwell, and instead sat down at the table with her own muffin.

 

The tray was half gone before Sans arrived, mainly because a certain child of Toriel's begged for a third, and once _someone_ got a third, _everyone_ needed a third. Blueberry muffins were somewhat of a weekend treat in their household, and definitely not brought on by any stress of the baking sort. 

When Toriel heard the soft creak of footsteps on the floorboards, some ancient primal instinct must have kicked in. She lurched out of her seat and loaded a paper plate up with leftover scrambled eggs at a blistering pace. She only managed to restrain herself when she was about to send the plate soaring through the air, and instead forced herself to only shove it at Sans's face.

"You're looking awfully scrambled this morning," She declared, staring down at him neutrally. He blinked.

And then they were both laughing, and a familiar groan was ringing out from the table.

...It was nice when things were normal.

To her surprise, he didn't actually look bad - far better than Undyne had when she first woke up. With the way he was guffawing at her stupid joke, he looked like the same easy-going continuously tired skeleton she'd seen every day for two years.

Speaking of Undyne, her head again fell onto her folded arms. The chorus of pun-induced groaning fizzled out, and Sans plopped himself down in the seat next to Frisk and across from Papyrus, still holding the eggs Toriel had gifted him.

"g'morning," he greeted. Toriel took a seat at the table's head, between the brothers. She returned the sentiment to him, and then Sans caught glimpse of the muffins. He was back out of his chair with a speed Toriel had never seen from him. When he returned, he'd secured both two blueberry muffins and an entire bottle of ketchup.

Alphys and Papyrus had resumed their engineering conversation. Frisk jumped in when they could, but mostly watched with the same look of fond confusion Toriel herself wore.

It was a Saturday. That meant laundry, though most days meant laundry with six people in a house. Toriel would later order them to strip their bedsheets and put them in the washing machine. MK's mother had called Toriel earlier that morning, delivering MK's eager request to play with Frisk. Toriel had, of course, agreed, knowing that Frisk would be overjoyed. That would presumably happen around two. On Sunday, Frisk would be getting up early for the first day of their volunteer program - they were partaking in a schoolwide food drive and would be off creating decorations and advertisements with their fellow upstanding students. Toriel reminded herself to make sure Frisk got to bed on time. She wanted to check her technologically revolutionary online calendar for any other scheduled activities, but remembered the "no phones at the dinner table" rule she'd established (mostly to Alphys). She had to be a good role model.

She at least remembered that after breakfast, she was planning on delivering a stern lecture. She supposed that could wait until Frisk was gone, though.

Speaking of, the child was looking quite bemused. They watched as Undyne struggled to stay upright, eye narrowed in rage at her own predicament. Finally, she snapped.

"This LOUSY HANGOVER!" The cry was punctuated by a pound on the table that left her fork airborne for an impressive period. Papyrus's and Alphys's conversation froze.

...Clearly, her rage was meant to be amusing, as Undyne shrank a little when all she received were unamused, nearly stony looks. And Frisk's utter confusion. Toriel hoped they didn't know what a hangover was.

"...L-like that's not your fault." Alphys's voice was almost imperceptible and obbiously meant to go unnoticed. The tension in the room was suddenly tangible. Undyne's eye snapped to look over at her, shocked. She reddened under the stares she was getting, realizing she hadn't gone unheard.

After a heavy silence, Undyne awkwardly looked back at her plate of bagels, subdued. The quiet lingered for a moment too long.

"So. The... visual transmitter...?" Papyrus ventured.

"Oh! Right! So, after th-the i-initial facial scan..."

Their conversation resumed, hesitantly and quietly.

Undyne fell silent and remained that way for the rest of the meal. Beside Toriel, Sans did the same.

 

Toriel knelt to hug Frisk, even as her knees ached. They joyously wrapped their arms around her neck, before wriggling out of her grasp and bounding out the front door with MK. More than likely, they were leaving to play in the grassy meadow on the outskirts of the neighborhood, despite the fact that it was January and a bite in the air still lingered. Toriel was glad that, though they were growing older, Frisk was still unafraid to hug their mother. Toriel was also glad that she'd managed to convince them to put on a jacket. She stood up, joints creaking a bit, and closed the door. The chill took a moment to dissipate from the foyer, and she absently wondered how long it would take until their house was naturally warm again.

She released the doorknob and approached the living room.

Her heart gave a pang at the sight of Undyne and Alphys on opposite sides of the couch. She certainly hoped that they would recover from this hurdle soon, and she hoped even harder that what she was about to say wouldn't make it worse. Especially considering that if the couple were to ever separate, there was no chance she'd kick either one out of her home. Awkwardness notwithstanding. Similarly, Sans and Papyrus were unusually distant, though in her experience sibling fights were far more inconsequential than lover's spats. The thought was only a small comfort to her, however, as she recalled Papyrus's face the previous night.

Toriel was sure to stand tall as she approached the couch as well, seating herself next to Alphys. She cleared her throat, and several eyes looked up at her.

"I believe there is an elephant in the room that must be addressed."

Sans pushed himself up from his lying position, where he'd obviously been moments from sleep. Toriel let her gaze flicker briefly toward everyone in the room before settling on Undyne and Sans on the opposite side of the couch.

"That was some very immature behavior on your parts, last night," Toriel declared. And before she could break the ensuing silence, Undyne was already talking.

"Uh... Yeah," she said. "I guess it kinda was. Sorry, Toriel."

"W-what... The thing that- that actually bothered me was... Um..." Alphys's words were abruptly spilling out before she had time to collect her thoughts. "I wished you would j-just _listen_ to me. I mean, I- I know you're an adult b-but, we didn't go to that party to get drunk, and I didn't want you to hurt yourself!" Her stutter lessened as she grew more self-assured, but she shrank in on herself upon recognizing the harshness in her tone. Her eyes drifted away from her girlfriend's, and she instead watched her own nails click together. "It... just went a bit too far, I think. And I wish you listened when I said you should stop."

Undyne's face had gradually fallen throughout the explanation, but she snapped to attention again as soon as Alphys's intensity faded to something between sorrow and embarrassment. "N-No! Yes! You're uh. You're right, Alphys. You're totally right." Undyne seemed ashamed. "I took it too far. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." Her face cracked into a smile. "I know you're always right, Alphy."

Alphys smiled too, and her gaze lifted again. They both looked away again upon making eye contact, embarrassed, but Toriel found herself still smiling. That was that, she supposed.

Toriel was looking back to Alphys, some sort of conclusion or affirmation already on her lips, when her gaze slid to Papyrus on the edge of the couch. Her smile dropped.

His hands were clasped together tightly in his lap, and he was staring off away from the rest of them. His expression was noticeably distraught, not even a bare imitation of his usual grin. Across the couch, Sans was making an almost identical expression, glare fixed somewhere off in the foyer.

The resemblance wasn't lost on Toriel.

She was just about the backtrack, to make them explain themselves to each other when Sans, astonishingly, beat her to it.

"yeah, i'm sorry too. guess i got a bit ahead of myself," he responded with an easy, self-deprecating smile.

 

"...won't happen again."

 

"...Yeah," said Papyrus.

 

Undyne and Alphys had taken to smiling gently at each other in a nonverbal display of both apology and forgiveness, clearly paying no attention. Something felt cold in Toriel's chest. Neither Papyrus nor Sans's gaze shifted from where they were fixed stonily at the far end of the house.

She wanted to address it, but she didn't know what to say. So she decided to let it go. She doubted pushing them would change anything, anyway. Finally working a small smile onto her face, Toriel cleared her throat again.

"I'm glad to hear it," she concluded, meeting the eyes of all four monsters before her. Sans and Papyrus suddenly looked so entirely relaxed, so contented that she would've easily believed they'd made up, had she not just witnessed the so-called apology.

"There is, one other thing, though." Her gaze fell upon Sans, who looked back at here neutrally and attentively.

She inhaled.

"Sans, are you alright?"

Undyne and Alphys's eyes immediately shot toward him, and Toriel didn't blink. His eyebrows were raised in surprise. He blinked, nonplussed.

She could feel Papyrus's stare boring into the side of her head.

...Toriel knew exactly how he would respond. He'd done it before. Many times, in fact. She recalled standing outside on a balcony, asking the same question, though in far more words. She recalled one private morning they'd shared in which she'd asked in the exact same way, watching his legs tremble. She recalled a late evening, too, only months after they'd met in person, before she'd grown quite accustomed to his constant nonchalance that bordered on apathy and his perpetual under eye circles. She'd asked awkwardly, unsteadily, uncertain how exactly to portray her concern. "i'm fine," he had answered.

She knew exactly how he would respond. But she also recalled last night when his knees buckled under his own weight, and he only remained upright thanks to Papyrus's grip. She remembered the vacant stare as his entire body shook, not even attempting to rise again, looking but seeing nothing, and how for a moment she stared into those eyes and didn't see anyone there. She recalled how he'd been, just for a moment, somewhere entirely different. And despite the fact that she knew what he would say, she had to ask anyway.

"...shit, what did i do," Sans muttered softly, looking down. It jerked her out of her thoughts so violently she physically jolted. Papyrus's head shot towards him. He realized his mistake as soon as he uttered the words, and his eyelights shot up to meet hers. "i mean, uh."

It was too late.

She couldn't forget what he'd just said. He'd sounded _angry_. For once, he hadn't diverted, or denied, or affirmed with his classic confident nonchalance that _he was perfectly fine, why'd you ask?_ He'd been angry at himself, for he realized that at some point during his state of addled awareness, he'd let something slip.

Toriel realized this in the half-second it took for him to recover and put that goddamn smirk back into place.

"yeah, i'm good, t. whaddya mean, did something happen?" His face melted into an expression of achingly genuine concern.

She smiled back, barely clenching her fists at her sides.

"Oh, no, I'm perfectly fine! I was just concerned, You must have a bit of a headache," she teased casually.

"a bit, yeah," he chuckled. "but it's already going away."

 

Conversation arose, then faded again. Undyne and Alphys stood and left for their room to watch anime. (Undyne's grin was too wide for that to be the only thing they were doing.) Papyrus left for a peaceful walk, then returned having sprinted five miles within half an hour. When he sat down, it was quite a bit closer to Sans than he'd been sitting before leaving. Frisk came home. They had a nice dinner. Frisk went to bed. Then so did Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys. The remaining two parted ways at the top of the stairs with a drowsy "goodnight."

 

Sans had slipped up, and both of them knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you thought i died, huh
> 
>  
> 
> uuuhhh umm there were probably a lot of things i thought of saying here over the past few months it took to write this. sorry it took so long, i actually only wrote this in two separate sittings but i just can't ever work up the energy to simply sit down and _write._ but hey!!! it's not a very fun or long chapter, and the pacing is so weird and bad and i forgot how to write, but i did it!!!
> 
> i kinda lost interest in this story for a while there, but after finishing this i remembered that i do still care for it, and im determined to finish! even if it's five months until the next update, it'll happen. you can blame modest mouse for that actually, at this point that fucking song is so deeply associated with this story that i can't hear it w/o wanting to write djgnkjdbndgbdg
> 
> oh! also, i have an undertale blog at stronger-monsters.tumblr.com, which i just realized i never mentioned! i draw 10,000 times more than i write. i'd be super happy to see you there!
> 
> uuuh. lancer and ralsei and susie are angels. i love them a lot
> 
> that's it


	6. well uh-uh, baby, i ain't got no plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Sans share a quiet evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short

Evening light shone through the wide windows, illuminating Sans's face as he zoned out at the island, fondly staring at a chattering Frisk. He was atop one of the tall stools, feet kicked up onto the countertop (Toriel didn't have to know), occasionally absentmindedly rocking onto the back legs of the chair and back despite the fact that the fall could possibly kill him. His crossed legs were cast in an orange glow from the setting sun.

Frisk seemed equally zoned out, though they were still talking up a storm. He'd long since tuned out their actual words, but was happy to simply watch them speak with their legs dangling off the counter opposite to him. His excuse for his inattention was that 7:00 pm was way past his bedtime. His nerves were also totally fried, for some unknown reason. The fact that he didn't know why only served to make him more annoyed, and thus more on edge. So he resigned himself to not thinking about anything too hard and was contented.

Frisk had proceeded to shove a whole cheese stick into their mouth, without pausing in their explanation of the day's events. He was kind of impressed. They did flash him a look, though, probably signifying that Toriel didn't need to know about the chewing with their mouth open. He nodded in sage agreement.

The kid had been awoken bright and early by their mother for another day of school, which eventually transferred seamlessly into volunteering and directing donors to the correct locations. They were currently explaining this to him in detail. They finished creating a surplus of decorative paper snowflakes early in the day (the season had technically passed, but Sans wasn't the type of guy to dampen one's passion for paper snowflakes) and then proceeded to help the big kids hang streamers. Presentation goes a long way, they recited to him, though it was clear to both of them that it was just a way to get the younger kids involved without having them do any important legwork. Frisk seemed delighted to just do arts and crafts the entire day, so there were no complaints. He imagined they must've tried to get more involved somewhere along the line, but the upperclassmen adored them too much to let them do anything boring or strenuous. Frisk was kind of a beacon of love and affection wherever they went, and people were instinctively drawn to them. He was glad they didn't have to struggle too much with friend troubles like he faintly recalled Papyrus doing in the past. Everybody loved them, and Frisk loved them back. Anyway, arts and crafts for four hours it was.

Toriel picked them up and dropped them off as soon as they were finished, then reluctantly rushed back to the school to finish paperwork. Never again would Sans underestimate the trials of teaching, not after meeting her - working from 9:00 am to 7:00 pm was more than he wanted to imagine. At least she loved doing it, everyone knew it was her dream job.

And thus, Frisk and Sans were alone in the kitchen, passing time with a mostly one-sided conversation plus occasional affectionate quips. He'd slept in until one and therefore wasn't privy to any early morning conversations, which included the locations of the rest of his friends. He was pretty sure Papyrus was out at driving lessons, and would be back within the hour. He had absolutely no clue where Undyne and Alphys were.

"-You listening?" Frisk asked.

"yeah."

"No you're not," Frisk claimed.

"no, i'm not."

Frisk snorted, amused, then continued to chatter aimlessly. What an awesome kid. They reached over to throw away their cheese stick wrapper. He almost lost balance when he leaned back in his stool again, but gripped the island in time. They laughed at him, and he did as well. He decided to stop rocking.

He tuned in long enough for him to realize Frisk was talking about Pomeranians, experience a brief moment of confusion, then zone back out.

There wasn't any buildup to it when it actually happened, and it was so dumb and cliché that he wouldn't be able to look back on it without flushing in embarrassment.

He still wasn't really listening, but was perfectly happy to watch. It drove him crazy to no end how on edge he was, and he just wished his nerves would match how relaxed the rest of him felt. The sun shone in gold. Frisk pushed themself off the table and walked over to the fridge. They pulled out a half eaten, ceram-wrapped tray of pie and set it down on the island.

Frisk took out a knife, and next thing he knew he was on the floor. The floor lit by gold from the setting sun. His fingers tightened against the hardwood as if there was something to grip onto, but there wasn't. He struggled to breathe evenly and shut his eyes. Frisk was talking still, but frantically and high pitched. Repeating like a broken record, _sorry, sorry, sorry._

He knew what was happening while it happened and wanted to slap himself in the face for it. For scaring the kid. _So dumb._ But he couldn't manage to lift his head from where it bent down, much less wrestle himself off the edge of panic. Something gave a metallic clank, then Frisk was at his side, gripping his arms that braced his weight, desperately trying to meet his eyes that were still shut tight. He instinctively tried to flinch away, but they didn't let go.

They sat like that for a moment, huddled uncomfortably on the floor. Frisk wasn't chattering anymore, and what they did say sounded more like the muffled gibberish of an echo flower.

 

_sorry... reset... n- sorry- -ever gonna reset... sorr..._

 

He cracked his eyes back open, denying the immediate false reality his sight displayed until he saw Frisk's face beneath it.

Their head was hanging low, and their hair hung over their nose. Their dim red eyes were focused somewhere below his face, inattentive. Freckles were dusted across their cheeks - he could only really see them when he was up close.

Several painstaking minutes later, he wasn't fighting to breathe. Frisk's grip on his arms had loosened greatly, and he became aware of the pain in his legs and palms from crouching in a weird position for so long. The kid was too far in their own world to recognize any of this until he was moving.

Sans leaned back until he was properly kneeling and not bent over like he was about to vomit. Their gaze shot up to him, tears growing in the corners of their eyes. He took a deep breath, and held out an arm.

They launched themself at him, hugging desperately. He placed his chin on top of their mess of hair, and raised another arm to rub their back soothingly.

Now they were the one hyperventilating, and they sobbed softly as he distantly tried to comfort them. The golden shade of the hardwood floor had faded to its usual brown as the sun faded away over the horizon. The microwave clock read _7:21._

"i'm sorry, kiddo. i didn't mean to scare you," he eventually whispered.

"N-no, Sans, I'm sorry," Frisk stuttered back, trembling.

"heh, what for? you didn't do nothing wrong."

They shook harder, and he nearly lost his breath with the tightness they suddenly grasped him with. He didn't mind, and proceeded to rub their back firmer to accommodate.

Another long moment passed. "I'm never gonna reset," Frisk told him.

"i know. i trust you."

An uncomfortable weight settled in his gut. Silence reigned through the house as the brief conversation dwindled without conclusion. He held them as he waited for their slight trembling to stop, then longer still. He didn't notice they were waiting for his to do the same.

Eventually, he released them when they wiggled. They rose with all the abundant energy of a twelve-year-old, even one that had just been sobbing, and reached down with a hand to help his generally less energetic self up. He almost stumbled at the painful surge of pins and needles in his legs, then unsteadily clambered back onto his chair once Frisk looked away.

They grabbed a paper plate from the cupboard, and he took the silent cue to take the knife that had been dropped onto the island and cut the pie. He cut himself a sliver too.

After a moment passed, Frisk was already chatting easily, mouth full of pie, as if nothing had happened. They made puppy-dog eyes at him when they finished their slice before he finished his, and he flicked them on the forehead in response. He was relieved to find that he was less jittery after the incident, even as the weight in his stomach grew worse.

 

The pair had acknowledged it, and would continue to do so if necessary. That was enough, Sans supposed.

 

Papyrus arrived at 7:40 pm in his typical grandiose manner, raising Frisk above his head and twirling around, then delivering a surprisingly vigorous noogie to Sans (He'd been a little bit insufferable ever since he picked that up from Undyne.)

 

And they both forgot that anything happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was pretty fast huh
> 
> be proud of me
> 
> sorry if this sucks!

**Author's Note:**

> howdy, thanks for reading!! ive been planning this fic for months and tbh im pretty passionate abt it, but like. im bad at writing. SO heres to hoping this works out, and that some of you will stick with me in it!!!


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